


The Greatest Show On Earth

by Not_You



Series: One Rainy Night [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Sex, Childhood Memories, Cunnilingus, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations, Rain, Rimming, Theft, Thunderstorms, bucky and natasha have a history but it's just a little one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-12 12:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2110563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Bucky is doing during the events of Step Right Up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky, as usual on his nights off, finds a poker game. He also finds a fight and a lot of liquor, and then somehow finds his way home, shirt undone and cap on backwards. It's a hot night and it makes him feel restless and wish that the boys hadn't broken things up so fast. Some goddamn rube talking about Bucky looking at his girl. Bucky doesn't even remember _which_ girl. The little redhead who had looked too young to be there? The big blonde? He has no idea, and laughs at this realization, sitting down in the dust and laughing harder. There are countless stars overhead, and he forgets about laughing to just stare up at them like a baby with something shiny.

"Pretty, ain't it?" a soft voice says beside him, and Bucky shivers. It's not like Steve isn't beautiful, and he's little and cute and good to cuddle, but there's just something about Clint. Maybe some of it is that he's one of the only people who can sneak up on Bucky.

"Yeah," Bucky says, looking over at him and smiling in the way he just can't help right now.

"Gonna be in a world of hurt tomorrow," Clint says, plucking Bucky's cap off his head and replacing it the right way forward. Bucky just watches him, feeling stupid and gooey inside. Clint has beautiful hands.

"Probably," Bucky mumbles, deciding at last that to reply would be the polite thing.

"Gonna make it home all right?"

Bucky laughs. "I'm what, fifty yards away?"

"'Bout that," Clint agrees, looking toward Bucky and Steve's trailer and then back to Bucky. "Got a shiner coming up."

"Be gone by tomorrow. That punk couldn't punch his way out of a paper bag. A wet one," Bucky adds after a moment of consideration.

Clint chuckles, and stands up, offering those beautiful hands to Bucky. Bucky heaves himself upright and then doesn't let go, wobbling a little. He knows he _should_ let go, but Clint's hands fit so nicely in his grip, gun calluses velvety-rough. "Come on," Clint says after a long moment, and gently tugs on Bucky's hands. It's weird, walking back back to the trailer hand-in-hand with their sharpshooter, like this is something grown men do all the time. When they get there it takes everything Bucky has not to lean over and kiss Clint's cheek and thank him for being such a gentleman. He giggles at the idea, and Clint just smiles at him. "G'night, Bucky."

"Night," Bucky says, and staggers up the steps and into the trailer to guzzle some water that's hopefully clean and then go to bed, cuddling up to Steve and sleeping like the dead until the little bastard prods him awake and demands breakfast. Bucky obeys with bad grace, grimacing down into the skillet. Still, the grease helps a little, and he's actually not feeling _that_ fucking bad when Coulson shows up. Steve begs him off of paint-carrying duty anyway, and Bucky finds himself watching the truck out of sight when Steve and Thor leave. He hopes Thor really is all right, 'cause if he hurts Steve Bucky is gonna have to cut his fucking throat. 

Then again, Bucky is pretty much always at least a little tense when Steve is out of his sight. It's kind of like being someone's mama. The _real_ worry doesn't start until the clouds roll in. Almost anything can make poor Steve sick, but the last time it had been getting soaked to the bone and trying to pretend he was all right. Thor better not fall for that crap. Or drive into the ditch.

Bucky actually goes looking for them when they're an hour late, but of course he gains nothing for his efforts but wet shoes and depressed spirits. He comes squelching back up the road which is turning from choking dust to clinging mud with the cold rain needling his face and the lightning strikes coming worryingly close. He really fucking hopes Steve has found some shelter, and dashes water off his eyelashes, squinting through the gloom at the tents and trailers as they become visible. There's hardly any light, just little yellow lantern glows through shuttered windows. And then there's something interrupting them further.

"Hey!" Bucky calls, squinting as he tries to figure out who it is.

"Hey," Clint answers, and comes closer, the hood of his raincoat pulled low over his eyes. "C'mere." He takes Bucky's arm and tugs for him to come along. Bucky obeys, but this time Clint isn't walking him home. They're taking the right turn that leads to Clint and Natasha's shared trailer, which is of course bigger and nicer than his and Steve's because they're basically a pair of roustabouts and don't have two nickles to rub together that Coulson didn't give them. Clint pushes Bucky up the steps and into a dim, plush interior scented with what Bucky has to assume is incense. He blinks and stumbles forward a bit as Clint follows and shuts the door.

"Good evening," Natasha says, lounging on the neatly made bed the way everyone does on the road.

"Uh, hey," Bucky says, instinctively removing his hat.

"I'm done pretending I don't know you," Natasha says. "Make yourself comfortable."

"Crafty minx," Clint says, shrugging out of his coat. "This is the first I've heard of it."

"I was just a little immigrant girl in New York," Natasha says. "At first I wasn't even certain this was my boy." Bucky blushes and feels like an ass, hanging up his soaked coat. Natasha tsks at him. "I said comfortable. Clint, give him some dry clothes."

There's a curtain to divide the one room into two, and behind it Bucky scrambles into a pair of Clint's pants that are almost too tight for him to get into, and a shirt that's too short. Still, it does feel better to be dry, and he tries not to think about how his underwear is wadded into the pockets of his discarded pants rather than anywhere on his body. Clint is sitting at the foot of the bed, and Natasha is resting back against the low headboard. "Feel better?" Clint asks, and Bucky nods.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Since you're up, why don't you make the coffee?"

"Why don't I, indeed?" Bucky says. He doesn't mind being the coffee mule because that means he can make it as strong as he wants. The others raise no objection at the amount of grounds he uses, and he stands at the little stove, waiting for the coffee to perk as its scent rises up to compete with the incense.


	2. Chapter 2

The coffee warms Bucky up as Natasha explains about their first meeting to Clint. There are bits he hadn't known at the time, of course. He had been able to tell that the little redheaded girl was a Russkie, but not that her father had been on the White side of the Russian Civil War, leaving everything behind to flee with their lives. At the time he had had other things on his mind, anyway, such as escaping from mean old Mr. Hermann with his life. And with his loot, his shirt full of oranges. He had nearly lost all of them when Natasha had smacked into him, a scrawny little kid in boy clothes that were too big for her. She had been more ambitious in her endeavors, carrying a big package of meat from the butcher's shop next door. The squawking was just getting started further down the block, and they really had had no choice but to run as fast as they could in the same direction.

"It was awful for me," Bucky says now, grinning over the rim of his cup, "because I was afraid Natasha wouldn't keep up and that I'd have to go back and defend her."

Natasha grins back. "Of course you would have. Lucky for both of us, I've always been fast."

"Like goddamn greased lightning," Bucky agrees, risking a glance at Clint and almost choking at the warmth in his eyes.

"So were you just out for kicks?" Clint asks, and Bucky shakes his head. Neither of them had exactly been stealing for the fun of it, but Bucky had been less desperate. After the two of them had bonded under fire and had escaped to get a better look at each other, Bucky gave her his whole take. There's hunger and there's hunger, and if the orphanage didn't always have quite enough for everyone, there was always _something_. Bucky had been skinny, but Natasha had been a gaunt little thing, and her hard eyes had wobbled with unshed tears when he had piled oranges atop her stolen meat.

"Not really. I was always trying to get fresh fruit for Steve, because it was all porridge and canned meat at the orphanage. But they _did_ feed us. Natasha looked like she hadn't eaten in a week."

"Two days," Natasha says, "but I was a growing girl."

"Things get any better?" Bucky asks.

She sighs. "We stayed poor and Mama got sick and died a couple years after that, but these days I can send Papa enough money to keep him comfortable."

"That's good," Bucky says softly, and there's a long silence, all three of them listening to the rain on the roof and the rolling thunder. Anywhere would feel like a cocoon on a night like this, but a space this small, with a velvet curtain making it even smaller and just the dim lamp for illumination, feels like the safest and warmest place in the world.

"Tasha?" Clint murmurs at last, setting his empty cup aside.

"Yes, _krasivyy ptitsa_?" she says, and drains the last of her coffee, favoring Clint with an arch smile that makes Bucky's stomach knot up.

"Aw, come on, honey," Clint says, amused and exasperated and too intimate for Bucky to be sitting here sipping coffee like an idiot. He can feel himself blushing when Natasha leans over to kiss Clint, slow and deep and with a little pink flash of tongue, her dainty hand coming up to cup his jaw where the five o'clock shadow is turning into stubble. Clint shivers and makes a little noise that's too quiet to be a moan, leaning into Natasha. Bucky sets his nearly-empty cup aside and is just getting up when Natasha looks over at him.

"Stay," she says, "if you want."

"We understand if you and Steve are an exclusive thing," Clint adds, and Bucky laughs.

"Nah, we're not like that. I mean, I love him, but it's the pair of you I'm really crazy about. And he's got it bad for Thor, anyway."

"You heard the man, Tasha," Clint says, eyes sparkling. "Pay up."

She rolls her eyes, and reaches into a drawer beside the bed, pulling out two quarters and theatrically pressing them into Clint's hand. "I thought I had bet wrong," she says, and sighs.

"I said Steve was in love with Thor, Natasha said he was afraid of him."

"If Steve turns out to have cause to be afraid of Thor I'm gonna cut him."

"We would help you, but you won't have to," Natasha assures him. "Thor is really very sweet." She gestures for Bucky to join her, and he sits on the edge of the bed. Clint moves around as silently as a shadow to settle on Bucky's other side. "We share everything," Natasha says, "and we'll share you with Steve, but no one else." She pauses. "Well, perhaps someone else if they ask nicely and let us watch, but you see what I mean."

"Okay," Bucky says, a little dazed.

"Can I kiss you?" Clint asks, and Bucky whimpers, letting those calloused hands turn his face to Clint's. The kiss is soft and sweet at first, but after a moment Clint gets bolder, nibbling on Bucky's lower lip before sliding his tongue into his mouth. Bucky moans, the part of his brain still fretting over Steve going quiet. Natasha presses a kiss to Bucky's neck, reaching around to unbutton the borrowed shirt.

"Let us know if you want to stop at any time," she says, nuzzling up to gently bite his ear as Clint starts kissing along Bucky's jawline.

"Ohhh, fuck..." Bucky breathes, "why the hell would I do something stupid like that?"

Clint chuckles and bites at his collarbone. "We just wanna keep your options open."

"Well, what I want now is to get out of these damn pants and take it from there," Buck says, and they both laugh. In seconds they've heaved him onto his back in the middle of the bed, and Natasha is helping him pull his arms out of the sleeves as Clint peels him out of the pants, making Bucky moan with the warmth of his hands on his hardening cock. By the time they have him stripped, Bucky is moaning softly with each breath, so hard he aches.

"Such a beautiful boy," Natasha purrs, accent coming back with her arousal. Bucky blushes and squirms, and Clint smiles, covering his throat in tiny kisses.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky has never done anything like this, but he's pretty sure he likes it. His hands are bound to the headboard with silk scarves, and Natasha is covering him with kisses in between telling Clint exactly how to suck Bucky's cock. "Pull off and lick his balls," she says, and it's like she's telling Clint to fix her a drink except for a little breathy catch in her voice. And Clint's tongue is moving on him, taking long, loving licks as Bucky whines and catches Natasha's mouth again, loving the way her tongue slides along his. She kisses him like she owns him, and he moans into her mouth as Clint gently bites his thigh.

"Get into him now," Natasha says, and Bucky squeaks, feeling himself blush down to his goddamn shoulders as Clint pushes his legs up and apart. "Remember," she murmurs, gently and just for Bucky, right in his ear, "if you don't like something, just say so."

"I know," Bucky gasps, and then cries out so high and breathy it embarrasses him, but Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, Clint is licking him. Licking _into_ him, and it's so dirty and so insane that Bucky really can't handle it. He thrashes and sobs, staring up at Natasha as she straddles his waist.

"Like that, sweetheart?" she says, accent rolling the syllables like stones in her mouth.

"Yes," Bucky manages to gasp, then groans again as the point of Clint's tongue pushes into him. "Oh fuck, oh my fucking god..."

"Clint has a lovely mouth," Natasha agrees, looking amused and stroking the side of Bucky's face with one calloused hand. Hers are a little different from Clint's, since she spends less time shooting and more time on aerial stunts, and Bucky moans, shuddering all over in a way that has almost as much to do with the idea of getting truly familiar with these hands as it does with the scrape of Clint's stubble on delicate skin.

"Yes," Bucky gasps, "oh god, yes..." he can't seem to stop saying it, babbling helpless affirmatives until Natasha muffles him with her tits. Bucky is really an all-around man, preferring to just appreciate the strengths of a girl's figure for whatever they are, but these particular tits have been haunting his dreams, and up close they are just as soft and white and wonderful as he would have expected. He moans and pays homage to them with his hungry mouth, licking and suckling and biting gently, rolling sweet pink nipples with the tip of his tongue. They're so hard, and he can feel the slickness of Natasha's pussy against the skin of his belly, the tip of his cock just brushing the curve of her ass.

Clint eases one finger into Bucky, and he groans. "Kind of up," he gasps, "and-- oh, right there." He should have known Clint would have perfect aim. "Fuck, _there_..." Steve has a hard time getting the angle right, but Clint just keeps pressing and grinding and it almost hurts but Bucky is begging him not to stop, squirming helplessly. Clint bites his thigh again, harder this time.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, boy," he growls, and Bucky whimpers.

"Yes, please," he gasps before Natasha can start worrying about him again. She shifts off of him anyway, and unknots the scarves. "Roll over, baby," she says, and Bucky obeys. Natasha passes Clint a pillow, and he tucks it under Bucky's hips and starts slicking them both up. It feels fucking amazing, but Bucky is distracted by Natasha spreading her legs a bare inch from his face. A lot of guys swear up and down that they never do this, and Bucky always wonders how many of them are just like him and lying about it. Bucky loves eating pussy, and gets to work proving that now. He buries his face in Natasha, tasting her sour sweetness and learning the delicate curves of her inner lips, and her hard little clit under its loose, soft hood. He presses a kiss to it and then laps gently up Natasha's slit before pushing his tongue into her, making her groan and clutch at his hair. She's gasping in Russian by the time Clint stops fooling around and lines the head of his cock up with Bucky's hole before pushing in. He's gentle and goes slowly, but he doesn't give at all, doesn't pull back. He just sinks into Bucky, holding still when he tightens and pressing forward the second he relaxes. 

Bucky gasps and pants and struggles to keep licking Natasha as his body opens for Clint. With Steve's general shortness of breath and other problems, he doesn't fuck Bucky much. There's a lot of other things that are easier anyway, and when they do go all the way, it's easier for Steve to lie back and take it. Now Bucky whines and moans into Natasha's flesh, wondering how in the hell he could have ever forgotten how good this is. She drags him back by the hair to stare into his eyes, her own dilated with lust.

"Good?"

"So fucking good," Bucky whimpers, and then cries out as Clint starts to move. As promised he fucks Bucky hard, but he doesn't pick up much speed. It's just rough and deep and deliberate, and Bucky wriggles and sobs as he keeps licking Natasha, grinding his hips up and back. Once she's sure he's comfortable, she's merciless, hauling him right where she wants him and growling instructions, her voice turning to a high, desperate gasp as Bucky follows them. She shakes all over when she comes, and there's an uprush of wetness in Bucky's mouth. She's quiet, just whispering something over and over in Russian as she pets Bucky like a dog. He moans and rests his head on her thigh for a moment, skin sticking and sliding on skin as Clint's thrusts rock him back and forth.

"Ready, _krasivyy ptitsa_?" she croons, and Clint breaks his near-silence of quiet grunts and heavy breathing with a pathetic little whimper that makes Bucky feel retroactively less embarrassed.

"Yes!" Clint gasps, and speeds up at last, hammering into Bucky.

"Please," Bucky whines, feeling Clint pulsing inside him and knowing that it won't be long now. "Please, Natasha..."

She smiles, and strokes his hair again. "Such a good boy," she says softly, and stretches out beside him again, delicate hand slipping between his body and the pillow to wrap around his hot, aching cock.


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky comes longer and harder than he ever has in his life, and Clint spasming and grinding into him with a high-pitched, helpless cry is just part of it. A couple of times with Steve Bucky has wondered if both of them were going to die of it, but now he can't even do that, and when it finally lets go of him he slumps into the pillows and burrows his face into Natasha's tits, whimpering and shaking all over with little aftershocks, toes curled and feet twitching. Clint plasters himself against Bucky's back, covered in sweat and whimpering softly. He's still inside Bucky, soft now and on the verge of sliding out. Bucky clenches around him, trying to keep him there, and Clint moans, hiding his face in the nape of Bucky's neck.

"Fucking Christ, Barnes."

"Right back at ya," Bucky mumbles, and Natasha chuckles. Outside there's another roll of thunder, but it sounds like the storm is moving away. The three of them lie there for a long time, Natasha's dainty hands stroking Bucky and Clint like beloved pets. Bucky dozes off for a while, and wakes up to see Clint kissing Natasha.

"God, I hope you brushed your teeth."

"We both will after this," Natasha says, "but I wanted to taste you."

Bucky feels his stomach lurch, his heart warm, and his poor spent dick twitch, all at the same time. He makes a strange, quiet noise, and hides his face in the pillow. "Bucky?" Natasha strokes his hair again, and he sighs, nuzzling into the touch. 

"That's gross, but kinda hot, too," Bucky says, and Clint laughs.

They do brush their teeth a moment later, and when they kiss Bucky again it doesn't taste like anything but Pepsodent. It's apparently Clint's turn to clean up, and so Bucky and Natasha get to just lie there while he heats some water and then swabs them off and pats them dry with a rag. Bucky drifts off with Natasha on one side and Clint on the other, their arms wrapped over him, and dreams of flying.

The next morning is one of those glorious scrubbed-clean days that happen after a storm, and Clint wakes Bucky up by covering the side of his neck with kisses. Bucky groans happily and stretches, turning to kiss Clint properly. Just as he's wondering where Natasha has gotten to, he hears her laugh and looks up to see her standing at the stove in her underwear and one of Clint's shirts. She is a fucking vision, and Bucky wonders if she'd let Steve draw her like this. Maybe for his birthday, if this lasts so long. 

For now he just grins at her. "Hey.'

"Hey," she replies, and stirs the food in the skillet. She and Clint can actually afford ice, so they have eggs. Along with some hash browns and coffee, this is most of what Bucky asks of life. The rest of it arrives about half an hour after breakfast, the battered old circus truck finally returning from town. The back is full of paint cans, and Steve is visible in the passenger seat, looking goddamn radiant. Bucky rushes out to give Steve a gentle but manly slap on the back in greeting, and to shake Thor's hand, thanking him for looking after Steve.

"Because I know you did," he adds before Thor can reply, "or he'd be lying in a ditch somewhere with pneumonia."

Thor laughs, and Steve protests that he's not _that_ bad, damn it. "Yes you are, _lotain oun_ ," Thor says, and it must be some kind of Asgardian pet name, because Steve blushes bright pink. He doesn't ask about it right then because Mr. Coulson comes out to get the costs of the paint put on the books and to reimburse Thor for his hotel stay over his strongest objections.

"He's actually a prince," Steve says when Bucky asks him about it, and at first Bucky laughs because he thinks Steve is fucking with him, and then he laughs because that explains a hell of a lot. He's next in line for the throne of Asgard, but is being allowed to trail all over the American southwest with the likes of The Triskelion Circus because there is a long tradition of oldest sons going questing. Apparently this counts, which just makes Bucky laugh even more, until he's so out of breath he almost asks to borrow Steve's nebulizer. Steve rolls his eyes and makes some coffee so he'll have a warm drink to nurse as he picks colors to repaint the wagons and redesigns some of the old murals. Bucky hangs around and lets Steve bounce ideas off of him for a while, but once Steve really gets going and is in full silent genius mode, Bucky wanders back over to Natasha's trailer. Tomorrow he'll be busting his ass to do the actual painting of the wagons along with the horde of other schlubs who do the grunt work around here, and he wants to make the most of the time he has left.

He kind of feels like an idiot when he finds Tony there, sitting on the bed and waving his arms as Clint cleans his guns and Natasha rolls her eyes, digging through a cabinet and emerging with a bottle of vodka to welcome Bucky in. "Come and have a drink, _shchenok_ , and don't mind Tony. He's just in love."

Tony sulks in uncharacteristic silence until Natasha puts a chip of ice in a Mason jar along with some vodka and enough tomato juice to make it look respectable. "It's a pretty complicated situation, actually," he says. "For one thing, it's fucking with the sacred bond of Talker and Freak."

Bruce is a strange creature, neither flesh nor fowl. A former geek and current Wild Man, he's a gaffed freak as well as being the closest thing they have a doctor after Tony, who vets his performing dogs with a loving attention that's kind of weird to watch. He keeps to himself and sometimes becomes the Wild Man outside of the ring and might actually be insane, and Bucky's heart aches for Tony. Wanting Bruce seems like one hell of a cross to bear.

After Tony has finished his drink and wandered away again, presumably to torture the dogs with new tricks, Natasha settles into Bucky's lap, and Clint tucks himself in under his arm. Like she's reading Bucky's mind as his thoughts turn to back to Tony's troubles, Natasha says, "They'll work it out," and presses a kiss to the line of Bucky's jaw.


End file.
